


in ways that can't be said

by jackclaw



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, No beta we die like mne, being dorks together, they're an Old Married CoupleTM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackclaw/pseuds/jackclaw
Summary: Geralt will never admit it, but Jaskier is right about the RV. It makes nights like this a little easier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73
Collections: The Witcher Secret Santa 2020





	in ways that can't be said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krispybubba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krispybubba/gifts).



> for swedishtrashgremlin on tumblr for thewitchersecretsanta!
> 
> title and inspiration (and a singular line!) from the amazing devil song [fair](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mBVP9Z_sac) which makes me a little weepy every time i listen to it

Geralt will never admit it, but Jaskier is right about the RV. Not about it being destiny that they get one--it's sheer coincidence that he happens to pick one up via Law of Surprise after saving an old snowbird and her husband from a couple hungry wolves just after Jaskier has started nagging him about getting one. He's right about the convenience. It makes traveling around the Continent a hell of a lot easier, especially since it means he doesn't have to worry about paying for shit motels or camping out in the wilderness most nights.

(Or sleeping in his old, beat up truck. "I have very long legs, Geralt, and so do you! Sleeping in the seats is not reasonable, and there is no way I'm napping in the back! A truck bed is not the same as a real one!" Jaskier exclaimed. Loudly. And often.)

It's a surprisingly spacious thing, for a trailer he hooks up to the back of his pick-up. Enough room for it to feel like a very small home when he enters it at the end of a long day. It's generally kept very clean, neither he nor Jaskier wanting to risk too much getting knocked about the place if they have to make a quick getaway from an angry small town. But there's a hand-knit throw over the back of the couch, a Yule gift from Eskel, a few years old at this point. Jaskier's lute and the beat up Gibson guitar have pride of place in the sitting area. And curled up on their queen-sized bed more often than not is the remarkably scrappy long-haired cat Jaskier brought back one night. 

(It has a massive underbite and is missing a chunk from one ear. When it purrs, it sounds like a monster truck. They name it Roach.)

It all makes nights like this, when he comes back to their makeshift home after a night of asking locals about contracts nearby and dealing with their wary stares, a little easier. Even if he does sometimes come back to Jaskier on speakerphone with one of his brothers, advocating for "just a little assault. A sprinkling of battery, maybe."

Geralt groans as he sits down to unlace his boots. "I'm not paying bail if you or Lambert get arrested."

He can hear Lambert laugh maniacally from the other end of the line as Jaskier rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. So you've said. Anyway, Lambert, I should go and make sure your brother actually eats something tonight. But please do call again next time you want to vent about people being douchebags."

Geralt very pointedly ignores whatever his brother says as a sign-off, instead leaning down to give Roach a small pat. She puts up with it for about twenty seconds before walking off, tail held high, to go and perch somewhere high. 

"We're down to terrible frozen meals, so wherever we stop tomorrow should be some place within fifty miles of a decent grocery store," Jaskier says, popping something in the microwave. As it whirs to life, he crosses their small space and greets Geralt with a kiss on the forehead. "Any luck with a job?"

"Might be a wraith two counties over.” Geralt reaches out and hooks a finger through one of Jaskier’s belt loops. All it takes is a little tug and the bard is tumbling into his lap. “Either that or kids are spreading stories about a house that isn’t really haunted,” he says, tucking his nose into the join of Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. He smells nice. Like the oatmilk and honey soap he uses, like their laundry detergent, and a little like aftershave. Smells like home.

“Guess we’ll have to check it out, then.” Jaskier pauses. “Are you—you’re sniffing me again, aren’t you? You know, you could really make a man self-conscious about his deodorant usage,” he says, a held-back laugh coloring his words.

A spark of mischief lights in Geralt’s chest. He ducks his head to shove his nose in Jaskier’s armpit where, really, he just smells the same with an added bit of clean sweat. “What deodorant usage?”

“Geralt!” Despite his protests, Jaskier is laughing. And that turns to a delighted cackle as Geralt picks him up and tosses him onto his back on the couch. He slips off the seat himself. Knees hit the carpeted floor and Geralt shoves his face in Jaskier’s crotch where his own scent is strongest. And—

He pulls back and scrunches his nose. “Did you spill lemon-lime soda on your jeans?”

Jaskier flushes dully. “Like, two days ago.” Geralt raises an eyebrow. Waits another moment for Jaskier to squirm and start talking to fill the slightly judgmental silence. “I dabbed most of it up! And it’s not like we’ve stopped anywhere with a decent laundromat in a week or two. I’ll do laundry when we go somewhere that isn’t the definition of a one horse town.

“Besides,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. “You don’t have room to talk, Mister I-Walk-Around-With-Monster-Guts-In-My-Hair.”

He plucks the tie out of said hair. Once it’s free, he runs his fingers through it as Geralt huffs. He smiles, and it’s one of Geralt’s favorite smiles. It’s not big and broad, like Jaskier usually smiles; most of his smiles have an edge of performance to them even if he’s not on a stage. But this one—it’s small. Just the barest tilt of his lips upward while his eyes do most of the expressing. It’s unbearably fond. And it makes Geralt’s heart thump just a little harder every time he sees it.

“It’s completely unreasonable, you know,” Jaskier says quietly.

“Hm?”

He tugs on a stray lock of hair. “How much I love you.” Geralt can feel his shoulders relax and something in him melt. He opens his mouth to return the sentiment, but Jaskier cuts him off before he can. “Even when you’re a big old hypocrite about things like laundry and leaving your wet towel on the bed. Again. And on my side!”

Geralt groans and pushes himself into a standing position, using the movement to hide his own fond smile. “This from the man who leaves his boxers on the floor right next to the laundry basket.”

Jaskier hops up from the couch. He plants his hands on his hips and Geralt can see him working himself into a playful furor. On another night, he might indulge in their bickering game. But tonight, he simply slips an arm around Jaskier’s waist and leans in to kiss him softly. 

“You too,” he says. It’s a hop backwards in conversation, but he knows Jaskier gets him. He tells him so with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> \- roach is absolutely inspired by [princess monstertruck](https://www.instagram.com/p/B0gO9llAtvn/)
> 
> \- pls come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://jackclaw.tumblr.com/) or discord (lyn#3878) and talk about this series because it's eating my brain and i need witcher fandom friends


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